If Dr. Jack Kevorkian wrote the horoscope:
Aries (March 21-April 19) Beware a sudden downturn in job fortune, if you even HAVE a job.
Look at the sky: drab and gray, the swollen clouds threatening to unleash a dreary rain to wash out this weekend's golf outing.
Your car will develop a flat in the right rear tire.
Has life ever seemed so pointless? What are you waiting for? The Sweet Beyond beckons like a shimmering oasis of peace.
Taurus (April 20-May 20) A good time to take stock of personal relationships. And let's face it: yours are strictly superficial, devoid of any real substance or emotion.
When was the last time your wife or husband gave you a hug? Friends? Hah! Non-existent.
Can't you see people are only using you?
An excellent time to begin scouting the tall buildings in your town, and the various access routes to their roofs.
Gemini (May 21-June 21)Your investments have you worried. And no wonder: They're about to go belly-up. And then where will you be? On the streets, my friend.
Whatever happened to the American Dream?
You will slice your finger with a paring knife, splattering blood all over the prize cantaloupe you've been saving for breakfast.
You don't need this. You really don't.
Cancer (June 22-July 22) An old acquaintance has disturbing news: The wonderful baseball diamond you played on as a child is now a Hair Cuttery.
Of the 210 people who take the real estate exam, you will finish 209. Only the non-English-speaking woman from Tunisia will do worse.
Why are you still HERE?
Especially when you could simply slip into the garage with a length of rubber tubing, fasten it to the tailpipe of an idling Oldsmobile, and experience the richness of the afterlife.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22) Health matters move to the forefront: An initial diagnosis of poison sumac turns out to be genital herpes.
A major food conglomerate announces a recall of its string beans for possible contamination; you ate three cans at dinner last night.
This is what you have to look forward to, day after day, for, what, 30 more years?
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22) A rich aunt dies and leaves you 30 cases of Mr. Coffee filters. You baby-sat for her children, guided her masterfully through the stock market - this is how she repays you?
What kind of knucklehead ARE you?
A leak in your basement proves worse than the plumber reported; take his repair estimate and triple it.
Let's face it, you need a rest.
A long, long rest.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 23) Public speaking ventures go well - for anyone but you. During a presentation to the company CEO, you'll become catatonic as paramedics pry your clammy hands from the lectern and lead you away.
Surgery is risky; envision your gall bladder flopping on the operating room floor like a freshly caught bass.
How do you STAND it?
Scorpio (Oct. 24-Nov. 21) A computer foul-up negates your $24-million win in the state lottery; the money goes to a wealthy oil sheik in Bahrain.
A two-hour visit to the Motor Vehicle Administration goes badly; it turns out the registration could have simply been mailed.
Haven't you put up with enough?
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 31) The spikey-haired creep in handcuffs on the front page of today's paper turns out to be your son. He's arrested after ramming a pack of Twinkies into the back of a convenience store clerk and claiming it was a gun.
Visitors from out of town insist you accompany them to the new Jim Carrey movie "Cable Guy."
It can't get any worse than this.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19) You have a 20-minute conversation with a perky librarian who ends every sentence with "kay?" ("So I punched those titles in the computer, kay? And it turns out your books are, like, eight days overdue, kay?")
Your daughter's softball team gets crushed, 65-2.
Remember: Relief is as close as your oven door.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
The boss makes you an offer you can't refuse: Vacate your desk immediately or he'll call security.
On a drive across the country, the only radio station you pick up has John Tesh doing Olympic gymnastics play-by-play.
What's the use in hanging on any longer?
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20) A good time to get away for a while, especially after the woman you rear-ended at a traffic light turns out to be Mrs. John Gotti.
What you need is a vacation, my friend.
A PERMANENT vacation.
Pub Date: 8/01/96